


What Are You Thinking?

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9912101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Oliver and Felicity are at odds with her being in the bunker now that she's pregnant. Tensions have been rising since they've had to cancel three dates in a row due to work. The argument begins at the Arrow Cave, but ends at the mayor's office.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, if this is a little lackluster. I feel a bit low in energy due to a cold right now among other things, but I wanted to get my post-episode fic out per usual.

( _GIF credit to[felicityssoliver ](http://felicityssoliver.tumblr.com/post/157626327845/felicity-cant-get-her-hands-off-oliverany)on Tumblr from 514 "The Sin-Eater"_ )

Felicity's nimble fingers scamper across the keyboard as John pummels a heavy bag. His shirtless torso is sheathed in a profuse layer of sweat. Rather than pay attention a man who's practically become her brother, her azure eyes are fixated on shutting down the lair's tech for the night. Her digits falter as pain settles at her feet. Chewing on her creamy magenta painted lip, Felicity thinks "It's too soon for all of this". After all, she's only eight weeks along. These Christian Louboutin pumps are stunning, but they are a literal pain. Not to mention her breasts are so sensitive, they seem as heavy as rocks. She distracts herself from the pain by twisting her engagement ring and wedding band around her finger until it passes, exhaling out in a deep cleansing breath. Felicity's eyelids drape shut momentarily.

Slinging a clean towel over his neck, John strides over to her workstation, "You alright, Felicity?"

"Hmm...?" Felicity hums, instantly fibbing, "Yeah, sure."

With a skeptical raise of his eyebrow, John guesses, "Does this have anything to do with Oliver?"

"Yes." She thinks silently, answering aloud, "No."

Judging by the thin line of his pillowy lips, John clearly doesn't believe her.

Stretching out the word, he relents, "Okay."

Eyes fluttering, his friend assures, "I'm fine."

"If you need me to talk some sense into that man of yours." John prompts, fist gently connecting with his free hand, "You just say the word, and I'll do it."

Felicity huffs out a breathy laugh at that, noting, "John, you're supposed to be more evolved than him."

"True, but..."

Speaking of the hothead, Oliver waltzes in like he owns the place. Technically both he and Felicity do, but that's beside the point. He bounds a few steps to his wife's workstation, fiery azure eyes piercing hers. His lips have seemed to tilt in a permanent frown, and an A-shaped crinkle knits in between his eyebrows.

"Uh-oh." Felicity observes, understanding, "You have angry face."

Dig wonders, "What's going on, man?"

"Dig." Oliver says with a clear of his throat, trying to stay as calm as possible, "Can we have the room please?"

"Is there something I can do to help you two? Maybe we can talk out whatever is going on with the both of you."

Oliver growls in annoyance, which prompts Felicity to insist, "John, maybe you should go hit the showers. This is between me and my incredibly stubborn husband."

"Excuse me?" He questions dramatically, clearly affronted.

Leading with her hips, Felicity rises to her sore feet - only to poke Oliver on his firm chest.

"You heard me." Felicity retorts, crossing her arms, "It's not the first time I've said it."

"If this is how you both are going to be..."

Palming his face, Oliver's tone is adamant, "John, this doesn't concern you."

"Last time I've checked, this started with three of us, we're all a team."

"John, please. You're really sweaty." Felicity insists, pinching her nose as a wave of nausea hits her, "And you smell like the inside of a men's locker room."

"How would know..." John begins to inquire, cringing as his chocolate brown eyes dart from Oliver to Felicity, "Never mind, I don't wanna know."

Sniffing his underarm, John's face crumples in disgust. He's getting a little ripe to say the least.

"Okay, I see your point." John concurs, heading off to the shower stalls, "I'm out, but you let me know if you need anything."

Oliver waits until he hears the knob of a shower squeaking loudly. The stream of hot water subsequently follows as well as _Hotline Bling_ by Drake over Dig's waterproof Q-phone.

Her husband accuses, whispering eerily low "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, hold that thought for a sec." Felicity groans, raising an index finger for emphasis. That's certainly not the finger she wanted to raise, but the urge to vomit hasn't passed. "I need to..."

Felicity drops to her knees on the brilliantly lit tiled floor, sitting back on her heels. Just as soon as she lurches forward in front of an empty wastebasket, her suddenly warm skin is caressed by a cool breath. Putting the argument on pause, Oliver sweetly holds back her ponytail with his other hand trailing over her back.

He whispers tenderly, promising, "Hey, it's okay. I gotcha. I gotcha."

Felicity retches pitifully in the trashcan, contents of her lunch making a second appearance. She harshly spits out the last remnants of mucus and bile, wiping her mouth with a crumpled paper towel. She gets back on her feet, standing on trembling legs. Oliver secures her, plopping Felicity's behind on her rolling desk chair.

"Ugh, why do doctors call it morning sickness if it lasts all day?" His wife complains, believing, "That's a serious misnomer."

Oliver squats down to her level, checking in, "You okay? You need anything?"

"Some water would be nice." Felicity requests, eyes flitting over to the kitchen area.

He obliges, pressing a short, chaste kiss atop the crown of her head, "Okay."

Not five minutes later, Oliver jogs back with a room temperature Arrowhead bottle of water.

"Thank you." She appeases, partaking a few needed sips.

Oliver's eyes linger on Felicity as her lips unwrap from the bottle. His head droops down to his shoes, foot nervously brushing against his calf. Regardless of all the pleasantries, they both know this marital discussion remains to be a cloud over their heads.

Squeezing her shoulders, Oliver asks again, "You feeling any better?"

"Much." Felicity replies before popping a minty stick of gum in her mouth, "I believe you weren't through sniping at me, Queen."

"I wasn't sniping, Honey." Her husband denies, tacking on, "that much. It's just... you know how I feel about you being down here now that you're pregnant."

Rolling her eyes, she glares at him, "My God! How many times have we been over this? In case you haven't noticed, pregnancy does not make a woman incapable of making her own decisions."

"Felicity, this isn't about just you anymore. This is about keeping you and our baby safe."

"But we are safe when we're with you." His wife persists, gaze flickering down to the hand tapping against his thigh.

He directs, noting all the weaponry and pointy objects. If foes bypass their security systems, who knows could happen to his wife and unborn child then? "Look around you, this place is nowhere near safe enough for children."

"Tough, Oliver. It's my life, my choice." She declares, gesturing to herself, "And as I'm the one, who will house our baby for the next seven months, I make all the decisions for him-slash-her."

Gaining volume, he roars, "Why are you so dead set against this?!"

"Because I am!" She yells, her response echoing throughout the large cavernous space.

"Why?" Her husband reiterates, needing to know the truth, "Curtis can handle comms. He's done it before."

"Oh, nice." She huffs angrily, pacing the floor, "I can't believe you think Curtis of all people can replace me just like that."

"Felicity, Baby..."

"Don't you 'Baby' me mister, and think you can worm your way out of this one?" Felicity recalls, laughing bitterly, "You only call me 'Baby' when you want something."

Grabbing her hands, he promises, "This isn't about replacing you, I just want to you to feel comfortable and safe. This lair is dank, dangerous, and deplorable at times with the recruits. You know that."

"Yeah, I do." She confesses, tears gleaming in her eyes, "But as much as you want me, I don't think I could ever leave this place again. Helping people and saving the day, it's who we are. It's what we've done together even when we weren't..."

Oliver finishes as if he's reading that beautiful mind of hers, "Together-together."

"Exactly." Felicity proclaims, palm splaying out over his clothed chest, where his Bratva tattoo once resided, "Being here with you gives my life purpose, it gives my life meaning. It reminds me that I can be more than just somebody's wife, somebody's mother, or an extremely stressed out pregnant lady, who happens to be the C.E.O. of a multi-billion dollar tech conglomerate."

His lips tilt in a soft smile, noting, "I understand that, Honey. I do. But you're so much more than all of those things to me. I love you, this baby, William, and Thea more than you can ever know, and I honestly think that this is best way to keep all of you safe. Please."

"No, Oliver." His wife sighs heavily in exasperation, ring scraping over the cotton of his white button up shirt, "If you think that, then you don't really get it."

"Okay." He says, feeling rather confused, "So explain it to me then."

"Look, I know I mostly leave the punching to you, Dig, Dinah, Rory and Thea." Felicity confesses, biting her bottom lip, "But here in the lair makes me feel like I'm with you. It lets me know where you are out in the field, so I don't have to spend my nights alone worried half to death about whether you'll come back to me or not."

"Hey. I will always come back to you." Her husband vows, wiping away fresh tears, "Our family and our life together is everything to me, Felicity."

Voice changing in tenor and tone, she breaks down, "But you can't promise me that... What if..."

"You're right." Oliver interrupts, "But I need you to trust me when I say I will always fight like Hell, and do whatever it takes to get home to you and the kids every single night."

"Then I need you to have that same amount trust in me when I say our baby and I will be safe down here - no matter what happens."

Looking away from her, he challenges, "Felicity, even you don't know that. You can't."

"Oliver, please." Felicity remarks sharply, "I don't want to fight anymore - not tonight."

"Alright then." Oliver concedes, offering her an out, "Then let's go home."

As if on cue, Digs steps out from the steamy bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his waist.

Unfortunately, the loose towel drops to the floor.

"Oh!" Felicity shrieks shortly, shielding her eyes as she appears utterly scandalized. However, she points out, "Lyla's a lucky girl."

"Hon!" Oliver addresses sharply, "Conceal your weapon, man."

"Conceal my what now?" Dig wonders, looking down, "My bad, brother. I thought I felt a draft in here."

Dig hastily retrieves his towel from Oliver, wrapping it back around his waist.

"You can look now. We're good. Sorry." Their friend apologizes, suspecting "So everything okay between you lovebirds, or what?"

Felicity chimes, "Oh, we've definitely still got some talking to do."

"Oh yeah." Her husband agrees with a reverent nod of his head.

To newlyweds who claim, marriage is a cakewalk, they're a bunch of liars. Any relationship - romantic or otherwise - takes hard work. The same goes for Oliver and Felicity. While they're argument wasn't resolved in a finger snap, and they just can't see eye-to-eye on this. Over the next couple of nights, the couple manages to work on a sound compromise. Felicity and Curtis start work on beefing up security, and for Curtis to relieve Felicity whenever possible because she's "been feeling sick" lately, or so they claim. Oliver and Felicity don't plan on telling people about the baby for another handful of weeks. No, for now they want to keep that precious little secret to themselves. However, Oliver's pretty sure Dig knows. In fact, Dig always knows. He simply has this way about him.

Mid-morning light pours in through the floor to ceiling windows of City Hall.

With a brief rapping at the door, Oliver's assistant Jett addresses, "Mr. Mayor, your wife is here to see you."

"Does Mrs. Queen have an appointment?" Oliver jokes with a small chuckle.

Diligently overseeing his schedule, in all seriousness, Jett responds, "I don't believe so, sir. But you do have two hours set aside before your meeting with District Attorney Chase."

"Jett, I was just kidding."

Slapping his thigh, Jett plays along as he chuckles dryly, "Ha ha. Very funny, Mr. Mayor."

God, he doesn't want to lose his job after spilling the beans to Oliver's Chief of Staff, who also happens to be his baby sister, Thea.

"Please send Mrs. Queen in." Oliver instructs politely.

"Right away, sir." Jett responds, escorting Felicity in cordially within a matter of minutes, "Will that be all?"

"Yes, Mrs. Queen and I will be going out to a long overdue brunch at Kayanan cafe, but I should be back in time for my meeting with Adrian."

Before stepping away, he asks, "Shall I alert your security detail of your outing?"

"No." Felicity directs, taking the liberty of answering for her husband, "I'm sure Mr. Queen and I will be fine."

"Very well, ma'am." Jett inquires, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

She hopes, "Coffee."

"Felicity." Her husband chastises, enunciating every single syllable of his wife's name. The words, "Hon, you're pregnant. No coffee." on the tip of his tongue, although he doesn't dare speak a word of it.

Huffing Felicity grumbles, "I'm fine. Thank you."

"Very well."

With Jett gives the first couple of Star City their privacy.

"Hey, you." His wife greets brightly.

As opposed to a nice and simple 'Hello', Oliver crosses the small distance between them, planting an ardent and passionate kiss on her lips. They smile into the lingering smooch, his calloused hands delicately cupping her smooth cheeks as if they never want to let go of this very moment. Unfortunately, the need for oxygen makes itself known. Oliver and Felicity have to pull away briefly. Puffs of air tickle their skin long enough for Felicity to be taken by surprise. Oliver hoists Felicity up onto his sturdy desk, chasing her lips with his again for another tender display of affection. Their mouths reconvene in a much gentler fashion this time. Felicity brushes her nose against his for an adorable Eskimo kiss.

"Mmm... Not that I'm complaining. That was quite a nice way to say hello, my love." Felicity moans, her face splitting in a deliriously blissful grin. "But what was that for?"

"That was I'm sorry for canceling our reservations at Ortega's last night."

Felicity counters, thumbs pooling in his dimples, "It's okay. Taking down Sinclair was way more important. I'm sorry for canceling our double dates with Thea and Kenzie the night before."

"It's alright, Felicity. They understand. Besides, you have that big presentation with the QI board in nine days."

"Uh-huh, so are you ready to go?"

With one last quick peck, he obliges, "More than ever."

They saunter off to their car, driving a few blocks down to Kayanan cafe. Thankfully, there are no bad run-ins with Star City's usual idiots of the week. They have a moment solely for themselves, simply dedicated to talking, listening, and eating together. While it's not coffee, hot cocoa is a narrowly close second in Felicity's mind. Besides it goes nicely with that tart and sweet cranberry muffin yhe baby wanted, even though Mommy prefers omelets. Begrudgingly as of late, Felicity detests the smell of any egg dish because Dig, Oliver, and Rory just love Tabasco drizzled on top of it. An hour flies by like that as evidenced by the clock. Oliver has his arm slung low around her waist while Felicity's head is nestled in the crook of his neck.

"That was just what we needed." Felicity murmurs into his skin. "But you have an hour 'til your meeting with Adrian, so I should probably go."

"For you, I have all the time in the world."

"Huh?" She observes, biting back a giggle, "How many girls did you use that line on the past?"

"You really wanna know?" He questions playfully, quirking an eyebrow.

Pressing a finger to her chin, his wife thinks, "No, but whatever do you have planned for all this spare time, Mr. Queen? Don't you have to prep before your meeting?"

"It can wait, Felicity."

"I have my own meeting with Curtis in an hour or so."

"It can wait, Felicity."

A jolt of desire courses through her veins, she orders in a whisper, "Lock the doors. I'll take care of the windows."

Oliver practically sprints to the double doors with key in hand, rattling the knobs to ensure that it is indeed locked. He fires off a quick text to Jett, stating that he and Mrs. Queen will be indisposed due to important matters they need to attend to currently. Everyone in the office knows what that means, though the staff doesn't breathe a word of it. Felicity hits a small black button underneath her husband's desk. The windows frost immediately, effectively concealing the couple of views from any prying eyes. Felicity sweeps Oliver's paperwork onto the green marble floor, leaving them in a messy pile.

"Aw." Oliver notes, frowning slightly, "I just filed those earlier by order importance and time."

"Who are you?" Felicity teases with a giggle.

He brushes off, "Screw it. I'll have Rene do all the grunt work later."

"See? Now there's the man I love."

His smile is toothy and broad. There's one last thing left on Oliver's desk - his ornate and massive letter opener. The metal handle is quite detailed with Cryllic on it as well.

When Felicity goes to pick it up, the letter opener seems more like a dumbbell, she chokes out. "Ugh, my God! This thing is heavy."

"Yeah, sorry." Oliver says, tucking it away with ease, "That was a little parting gift from Anatoly. Remember?"

If Oliver defines 'little parting gift' as the knife Anatoly stabbed him with as that, sure it is. That's what Oliver gets for not doing another favor for the Russian mob. Oliver is no longer Anatoly's favorite American, and they aren't exactly friends. However, they are still allies as it would seem to be. Pushing that thought way down in the confines of his mind, the Queens get down to business. Felicity's situates herself on top of Oliver's now empty desk.

With a wry smile and a 'come hither' finger wag, Felicity coaxes, "C'mere."

Oliver slips between the cradle of his wife's legs, her maroon skirt riding up as she wraps her legs around his torso. Their kisses grow hotter than before - only to realize they are way too many clothes. Oliver's hands sneak down to find the waist tie of Felicity's black trench coat. She shrugs it, laying it over his scattered paperwork. His roughened palm glides down further, pausing to remove her adorable panda ballet flats.

Sinking to his knees, Oliver presses a wet smooch to the sole of her foot.

"Better?" He mutters into her slightly pink skin.

His wife mewls, head craning back as his stubble rasps the supple skin of her leg, " Mmph... So much better."

Oliver's stubble is scratchy. It's teasing and taunting her, yet Felicity can't get it enough. He rises to his feet, fingertips digging into her inner thighs. But not yet. That's for later. Felicity presses a short kiss upon his mouth before Oliver seems to have other plans. His mouth trails down from her jaw, column of her neck, making its descent down the valley of her breasts before he tugs the strap of her maroon dress aside. The lacy black cup of her bra is revealed to his mitigated gaze. Suddenly, Oliver appears like a ravenous man with a craving for something only Felicity can provide. He sucks on her breast through the thin layer of lace, rooting around until he finds her nipple.

" _Oh!_ " Felicity cries out, muffling the unbidden sound against her hand. Though it isn't exactly pleasurable. Her breasts are sore among other places, "Honey, stop!"

He does instantly.

Concern washes over his face, Oliver apologizes profusely, "Sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Hey, It's alright. You didn't know. I don't think we can do that for awhile."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Kissing him, she admits vehemently, "Hell, no. We've barely gotten started."

"Then let me make it up to you."

Oliver pulls at Felicity's hips, bringing her even closer towards him. Lingering kisses grace their lips as if the pair is practically breathing in the same air. Oliver's fingertips skim her thighs before he shoves his palm between his desk and her lace covered core. Oliver knows Felicity's body as well as his own, making it easy to bring her pleasure just like that. Her hips grind against his hand, palm finding her increasingly wet cleft. She moves to her own volition, seeking out friction. Although, it isn't enough.

"Oliver, please."

Her tone is laden with need -desperate for so much more

He hikes up the skirt of her dress further than before, fingers threaded through her panties as Oliver yanks them to the one side. Felicity whimpers as her pulsing core comes into contact with his deft hand. Oliver runs the heel of his hand across her slit, purposefully teasing her folds. He rubs small circles over her stiffened clit. Moans are quelled over his mouth until she grows amply wet. With her essence coating his digits, Oliver thrusts two fingers in her warm, wet sex. Felicity clings to him tighter, slowly getting lost in nothing but pure sensation. He simultaneously nibbles on her pulse point. When his fingers riff against a special spot deep inside her, she breaks. Felicity emits a languid keen of her husband's name, escaping in a high pitched tone from her throat. Her walls rhythmically pulse around his digits, pulling him in even deeper as he works her through an orgasm. Her nose prods his shoulder as he takes in noisy breaths. Felicity looks up at him. They don't need words, but they do need to be quick and quiet.

Brushing back stray stands of her frazzled ponytail, Oliver whispers, "I love you." as he punctuates it with a smooch.

Felicity tugs down the bodice of her dress, yanking down the skirt of it until the fabric pools it her bare feet. Her underwear is quick to follow. Oliver undoes his belt, drawing his pants down. His boxers dangle by his ankles. Felicity lays back on the cool dark hardwood desk. However, time is rearing its ugly head. Oliver lifts Felicity into his arms. Her heels dig into his butt cheeks. Oliver thrusts in without warning, burying himself to the hilt. He pulls his hips back, holding her own hips aloft. They try desperately to keep their moans and groans to a minimum, but it's no use. Oliver drives into her while Felicity's hips move down with harsh little thrusts her own. At this staccatto, rough pace, they're both so close, and they know it.

Nipping at his shoulder blade, Felicity warns, "Oliver."

With one single change in angle of his hips, Felicity's body is wracked with pleasure again.

As if her release is tethered to his, Oliver comes in thick, long, rapid spurts, muttering roughly, "Fuck, Felicity."

With one kiss, they wait until their bodies cool down before they move again. The Queens quickly clean up, and readjust their horrendously wrinkled clothes.

"That was more than I thought we'd get done our lunch break." Felicity admits shyly.

He muses, "Me too."

With one fleeting kiss, his wife suggests, adjusting his tie, "You better go, you don't wanna be late for your meeting."

"No I don't." Her husband agrees, helping Felicity put on her black trench coat, "Love you."

"Love you more."

Felicity sashays away, garnering subtle smiles from Oliver's security detail. Thankfully, Agents Colson and Pearson stay mum, pretending to listen to their Q-Pod nanos. Oliver races down to Adrian's office.

"Please don't greet with me with 'We have a problem, Chase." His boss insists.

With his hands steepled on his desk, Adrian berates, "What are you thinking?"

Straight-laced D.A. Adrian Chase and Mayor Queen had quite a long talk about proper conduct during work hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


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